


Seven Kisses

by olibloop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I Tried, M/M, Sad, Spoiler Alert - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform, ive never written like this im sorry, my shitty writing, spoiler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olibloop/pseuds/olibloop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time you kissed, he was 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> ok so spoiler alert, goes up to like season 5/6. ive never really written like this, sorry if its bad!! im trying i just really like wincest all of a sudden  
> oh and if you havent read my stridercest fic, i suggest you check it out if you like homestuck!  
> my tumblr is sawtoothandsquarewave  
> feel free to send me prompts, drabbles, asks about future fics, or just say hello!  
> if theres something you want me to see on tumblr, i track the tag gendpurr

The first time you kissed, he was 12.

He said he was going to the school dance with a pretty girl that he really liked, and he didn’t know what to do. He asked you to kiss him so he knew what to do. Your heart stopped, your breath hitched quietly.

You kissed him, because you could never refuse him anything he wanted. 

Even though you knew the guilt that would follow you around for the next month at least, even if you knew that whenever you kissed whatever girlfriend you had at the time, it wouldn’t be the same. You did it anyway. 

The second time you kissed, he was 14. 

You had moved on from that kiss by then. And it upset him. What he didn’t know is that you had not moved on from him. You felt sick, you felt wrong. You had sex with almost any sleazy hunter who made a move on you, because you weren’t supposed to love Sammy like that. He was your brother. One time, when Dad was out hunting and you just came home from a one night stand, your brother walked up to you.

Then, he slapped you. He was crying. He was shouting. You noticed that he had stolen some of the alcohol Dad kept in the fridge, and he smelt like it. His lips tasted like it.

He grabbed your collar and dragged you in for a kiss, before backing off and running into the washroom, locking himself in there all night. 

You went to bed. You didn’t know what else to do. 

You didn’t talk about that time either. You helped him with his first hangover, you moved his hair back as he puked, you cleaned him down, wiped his face with a cold face cloth, and gave him an advil. You prayed he didn’t remember last night, and then gave him a strict warning about ever stealing dads alcohol again.

The third time you kissed was the last time you saw him for a long time.

He wanted to go to college, Dad disagreed. When Sammy slammed the door behind him as he left, tears pricking at his eyes, you did not follow him. You did not stop him. You stayed with your father for a few moments before excusing yourself to the washroom. You jumped out the window into the cold night, chasing after Sam. 

He was crying.

You begged him to stay. 

He told you he couldn’t take it anymore.  
He grabbed your hair and dragged your heads together, kissing you gently.

This was the first time you kissed back. 

You whispered a broken “Don’t go, Sammy,” against his lips. The last thing he said to you was, “I’m sorry.”

When you saw him next, years later, you did not kiss. You did not try to kiss him, he did not try to kiss you. You did not let yourself stare at his lips, when his girlfriend walked in the room, your lip did not quiver, nor did you cry. 

Part of you was glad he moved on. Part of you wanted your Sammy back, to lock him up in your heart and never let him even think of Jess again. It scared you.

You did not kiss him for another 2 years after that.

The fourth time you kissed, he wasn’t alive.

His spine had been severed. You cried. You knew Bobby saw your tears, heard your poor attempts at muffling your sobs. You kissed his lips one night, when Bobby was sleeping. It was a quick peck. He was cold.  
He did not kiss you back.

The next day, you sold your soul for him. The demon gave you a year. You don’t tell her you would have sold your soul for ten minutes if it meant Sammy lived.

He did not kiss you when he found out what you did. He did not kiss you at all that year. You did not try to kiss him. 

The fifth time you kissed, it was another good bye.

Your skin was in ribbons, torn to bits by hellhounds. You used your last breaths to reassure him that everything was fine, but it was hard to talk when you were drowning in your own blood.

The last thing you felt was his lips on yours.

In Hell, the memory of his lips kept you strong. When Alastair was tearing you to shreds, he used your unnatural love of Sammy to weaken you. He insulted your younger brother. He called you every name under the sun. He taunted you about those memories, he mocked your cries of your younger brothers name.

The sixth time you kissed, somebody else saw.

You were just back from Hell. You could hardly remember the taste of his lips, his smell.  
You kissed him softly, because you were rough with everything but you would always have a soft heart for your brother.

An angel saw, and Cas learned what was on the top of the list of reasons on why you deserve to rot in Hell.

The seventh time you kissed, it tasted like blood, and Sammy was begging for you to forgive him. He let loose the Devil himself, Sammy opened the cage. He broke the last seal.

You forgave him, because you could never not forgive him. Even when he held a gun to your head and tried to shoot the empty gun at you. 

You promised him that you would fix it. You always did. He kissed you and sobbed into your mouth.  
Your lip did not quiver. You did not cry. You did not insist that you had no idea how to help him. How to save everyone. 

You did not speak that night. You let him tell you all his sins. 

The words, ‘I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” were forever etched into your memory.  
They rang in your head.

They haunted your dreams. 

It has been almost 2 months since then. 

You have not tried to kiss him since.

He has not tried to kiss you.


End file.
